


If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention

by Fauna96



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Basically what would have happened if Lovelace was Nat's master, Evil!Nat, Gen, What-If, dark!Nat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 08:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17998805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fauna96/pseuds/Fauna96
Summary: She was stricken by the youth of that face, firstly, then by the wrinkles already marking his uncovered forehead; she was looked up and down, and not even a shadow of emotion was seen on his face, not even a fleeting smugness.





	If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Game of Thrones, 3x06 (I think); it's a line from Ramsay Bolton (of course it was him).

Kitty was breathless; her side was pulsing and aching, because of the running and the wound inflicted by the wolf, but she couldn’t check how deep it was: she hadn’t the flashlight anymore and even so she wouldn’t dare use the faintest light. Shivering, she collapsed on the floor of the warehouse: she might as well rest until it was day. She put her cheek on the ground and didn’t move anymore.

 

_During the long years passed under Simon Lovelace’s tutorship, current Prime Minister, John Mandrake had been learning not few things, about the magic as well as about people. And he had noticed this: a man of power, say a minister, is surrounded by a lot of subordinates; among all of them, only one will be considered his personal assistant, his most trusted collaborator; and he will be entrusted with incredibly ridiculous tasks, for example fetching the smoking from the laundry. As a child, John had wondered many times why not choosing another one instead and entrusting the assistant with more important tasks. Then, he had understood: any at least competent subordinate could have managed a delicate operation, but only the most trusted one could have attended that boring party instead of his superior, selecting accurately information._

_So, when his master sent him to deal with “some nuisance” in his place, John wasn’t offended, he was proud actually: Simon Lovelace trusted him. Said nuisance was listening to Undersecretary Underwood complain about the few employees he had for uproot the black market of magical objects. Mandrake’s demon once had defined Underwood “a dabbler in fakery and mumbo jumbo” and, if he had had the habit of manifesting his opinion to his servants, Mandrake would have expressed his agreement with all his heart; instead, he had just told it to be quiet, but without too much harshness. He had heard far worse, from Bartimaeus._

_Inevitably, he found himself wondering how the operation would have gone, that night; he had put Bartimaeus in charge. He had given his orders with maniacal precision, because he couldn’t let himself to fail. It wasn’t just to appease his master and minister, no, he_ must _eradicate those subversives: for the sake of the State and his own, for shake off himself the favourite tag and show that John Mandrake was worthy of sitting behind that desk._

 

\- Careful, idiots! Don’t you see she’s injured? Who will hear that one if she dies during the capture? -

First, Kitty heard the voice, curt and crackly; then she felt the weakness, that seemed to seize every member; lastly, she realized she was no long lying on the cold floor, but she had been lifted up and someone was holding her up by her clothes.

\- What a mess… blood, everywhere! –

\- Boss, are we sure she’s alive? –

Kitty felt stone-like fingers grab her chin and lift her face up, but she didn’t feel any breath on it; with a great effort she was able to open her eyes and saw what it looked like a gargoyle from Westminster cathedral observing her. She couldn’t see who or what was lifting her, but she could catch dark spots on the floor.

\- Alive and kicking, sort of – the gargoyle settled, satisfied. – A little run-down, but she’ll survive – After that, darkness descended again upon Kitty.

 

When she woke up, the situation wasn’t changed very much: she was again in a little room, without windows and furniture, except for the cot she was lying on; her head was unpleasantly buzzing, but she found out her wound had been treated, and all her weapons were gone.

She didn’t have to be a genius to understand that she had been captured and arrested by government demons; the real question was how long they would leave her there, tormenting herself, until her summary trial. Or maybe, her execution: who worried about formalities anymore?

She found herself feeling some icy resignation instead of the fear she was waiting for: she was going to die, after all, and she didn’t know how nor when; and yet, she didn’t want anything but lying in the darkness, thinking. It had been a long time since she had felt so calm: no tension nor anxiety nor adrenaline pumping through her veins; it was over.

\- My compliments for your calm – someone commented, and Kitty startled: in the wall, previously solid and absolutely crack-less, had opened what Kitty imagined being a portal; like he was leaning on a door frame, there was a young boy wearing jeans and a hoodie, his eyes glowing in the semi-darkness. – You know, not everyone can stay clear-headed like that, once they’re captured – he went on, looking her up and down attentively – I’ve seen quite the scenes, in there -.

Kitty kept her mouth shut; she didn’t want to give the demon free hand and she wouldn’t underestimate it because of its harmless appearance: she had seen friends slaughtered by a pretty little girl.

Glistening teeth joined glistening eyes and Kitty couldn’t help but gulping; nevertheless, she didn’t look away.

\- Come on: you’re awaited, young lady -.

So, a trial. Kitty stood up, still unstable because of the tiredness and the hunger, and she went near the demon. Odd, now that she could watch it better, the grin that seemed ravenous weakened in some kind of melancholy bitterness.

Cold fingers held her wrist without hurting her and Kitty let herself be led by the demon through the portal: it wasn’t very different from going through a short dark hallway or an underground tunnel. In no time, they were in a different room, occupied by a man.

It could be some interrogation room, since there were a table and two chairs, and it seemed completely isolated, like her cell. Kitty was a little surprised: what was an interrogation for? She was certain the others had been all killed or taken… She looked at the man, wearing a grey suit, giving his back to her: he was taller than her, his hands tucked casually in the trousers pockets. Kitty was sure he had heard them come in, but he didn’t turn around until the demon coughed and gave out a peeved – Master! –

With deliberate slowness, the magician turned around. In every other situation, probably Kitty would have laughed because of the exasperated theatricality.

She was stricken by the youth of that face, firstly, then by the wrinkles already marking his uncovered forehead; she was looked up and down, and not even a shadow of emotion was seen on his face, not even a fleeting smugness.

After what it seemed hours, the magician spoke: - Bartimaeus, stay here, ready to intervene in any case. Miss Jones, please – he made towards her a wide gesture, exhorting her to sit and Kitty obeyed; out of the corner of her eye she saw the boy sitting cross-legged near the spot where the portal had opened.

\- Miss Jones – the magician repeated – My name is John Mandrake; probably you have heard of me before -. Kitty made her best to not rise an eyebrow: not knowing Mandrake’s name would have been like not knowing that London was the capital. It was just that… she didn’t expect him to be really that young. Beneath her hate for him and everything he represented, she realized feeling a drip of fear: maybe because of the awareness of everything that _boy_ had done, or because of those absolutely impenetrable and almost emotionless eyes.

\- I have been following you and your companions for a long time – went on Mandrake – Or better, your tracks. You have been a clever opponent, Miss Jones, and because of this only I want to make you an offer – Kitty’s face remained stony. – I am not a fool: you were part of the principal cell, but I have no doubts there are others. I want to know anything about any single member and associate, I want you to answer any question I have. In exchange, I am sure the Prime Minister will grant you a pardon… and maybe more -.

Kitty spoke for the fist time: - What if I refuse? –

A threatening shadow brushed against the magician’s face. – I will take what I want anyway, Miss. But I’m afraid my demons’ methods may be…tactless, compared to mine -.

Kitty glanced once again towards the kid’s bored expression.

She swallowed. – No -.

\- Excuse me? –

\- I said no. You’re an idiot if you have even thought I could have answered differently -.

A chilling silence came after that.

\- It seems to me she has been thoroughgoing, I’d say -.

Mandrake’s eyes flashed toward the demon. – I don’t remember ordering you to comment, Bartimaeus -.

Very irrationally, Kitty felt a stitch of fear for that big-mouthed demon: the magician’s tone had sent shivers down her spine. Bartimaeus, however, seemed to not notice that: it sneered at its master and added: - I dunno, maybe you needed an explanation. You seemed a little freaked out, maybe because someone said _no_ to you… -

Mandrake said a word Kitty didn’t understand, and a moment later the demon bent like it had been punched in the stomach. 

\- Miss Jones – and Kitty startled, looking away from the pained kid – I am sorry, truly I am. I hoped I could collaborate with you… but the choice, after all, is only yours -.

Kitty stared at him with open contempt. – I have made my choice a long time ago, Mr Mandrake -.

 

Mandrake had not lied to Kitty Jones: he was really sorry that she hadn’t wanted to collaborate, not only because of the information, but also because she was smart and capable, and she would have been very useful for the government. Of course, she shouldn’t have been underestimated, she was a terrorist, but with the right measures… But it was useless overthinking about it: she had made her choice and Mandrake wasn’t one to cry over spilled milk; moreover, among commoners’ dull crowd, it had to be some other bright and possibly useful.

\- We’re lowering more and more the age bracket, eh? Are we going to start executing twelve-years-old soon? –

Mandrake didn’t even look up from his papers. – If necessary, we are. And a demon wanting to argue about right and wrong beats everything. How many humans have you killed? – he didn’t concern himself waiting for an answer – You’re Dismissed, anyway -.

The djinni’s dark eyes were black, impenetrable caves. It said: - Much less than I could have. Unlike you -.

The magician finally looked up: the dark-skinned boy was, as always, skinny, scornful… disgusted. When he was a child, this had upset him without a clear reason.

\- Why do you care so much? – he snapped lastly. They had known each other for years, and for years Bartimaeus behaved in the same way, criticising in that almost moralizing manner that little did suit a demon.

\- Why do you? – the demon twisted around and, saying no more, it let the floor absorb itself.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you remeber that in The Amulet of Samarkand, Lovelace says something to Nathaniel like "Ah, if you had been my apprentice, we could have done great things together"? In this story, it happened: Lovelace took the power with Ramuthra and he's now Prime Minister, with John Mandrake as his (former) apprentice and assistant. Yep, Underwood is still alive because he wouldn't have been invited to Heddleham Hall and Bart, of course he's here too. The Resistance is much more alive and aggressive... but Nat is too, sadly. But... maybe a little spark of goodness is there still..?


End file.
